Saving Reid
by Salazar-Tipton
Summary: Spencer Reid went almost a year without using until a mystery guy comes into his life. The team slowly realizes something is wrong. Will it take them too long to get Reid to open up to save him?
1. Chapter 1

"I'll gather the team," JJ said before leaving Hotch's office, case files in hand.

Hotch turned in his chair to face the screen behind him reporting on the three murder suicides in Ohio that had happened over the past week—the last one the previous night. He shut off the report and followed JJ out.

"The unsub seems to be controlling lower level criminals—those who did anything from lewd behavior to petty theft, all of whom did time—and forcing them to kill families followed by either killing themselves or being killed by the unsub. We'll know more when we get to the crime scenes," Agent Hotchner explained to the team.

"You said this has only been going on for the past week?" Reid asked.

JJ nodded her head.

"Then there has to be some record of this guy trying things out before," Morgan interjected.

"You're right," Rossi said. "He couldn't have developed an MO this precise without practice."

After the briefing, everyone left the room to ready their go-bags.

"Wheels up in 40 minutes," Hotch yelled out the doorway.

Reid clung to his cane as he stepped down into the bullpen and walked toward his desk. His free hand played with a loose thread on the hem of his gray cardigan. As he sat down in his chair and set his cane aside, two boney hands covered his eyes. He panicked at first, until he breathed in and smelled Marc Jacobs' Dream wafting off his "attacker." He spun in his chair to face the person.

"What are you doing here?" Reid asked while standing up, holding on the person's shoulder for support. "You never visit me at work."

Emily, Morgan, and Garcia were watching from the break room, getting there to-go cups for the plane.

"Who's the guy Reid's talking to?" Emily asked as she stirred in her fake sugar. "They seem a bit friendly."

The man with Reid leaned in to hug him softly. He had almost shoulder-length, blond hair half covered by a black beanie. His cardigan, jeans, V-neck t-shirt, and boots were also black.

"I didn't think anybody could be smaller than our baby genius. That guy has to be 110 lbs.—maybe less," Derek said as he studied the back of the mystery man.

"Looks to be around the same age as Reid, early 20's, right?" Emily asked.

"Must be. I just wish he'd turn a bit so we could see his face," Derek responded.

Emily turned to face Garcia, who was making another pot of coffee.

"Why aren't you ogling this guy as much as we are? You're usually the first to try to profile anyone near your babies."

"Profiling is your job. Mine is cyberspace," Garcia replied. She poured the coffee into the filter, shut the lid and pressed Brew. "Have fun in Ohio, hot chocolate," Garcia said before turning to walk to her office. "And Em?"

"Yeah, Garcia?"

"What makes you think I don't already know about him?" She asked, motioning to the slender man getting into the elevator.

* * *

"Hey, Garcia. What do you have for us?" Hotchner asked while Reid turned the computer and tilted the screen so everyone could see without crowding behind him his regular seat in the plane.

"The most recent victim/felon went by the name Jason Cobb. Convicted in '02 for shoplifting and after a few months in the county jail, tried to rob a convenience store with a gun," she rattled off while typing away. "I've found similar priors on all of the so-called suicide murderers. All the info has been sent to your phones."

"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch said before turning to the team. "Rossi and Reid, go to the most recent crime scene. Emily and Morgan, go to the first. All of you meet up at the second crime scene to compare notes. I'll send deputies to meet you at each scene that were present that night," he ordered.

Reid turned the computer back to himself and waved goodbye to Garcia. Red letters appeared at the bottom of the screen for a spilt second reading: WATCH OUT, GORGEOUS. HE EARNED SOME ATTENTION. Garcia blew him a kiss and the screen turned to static. Reid pulled his satchel a bit closer to himself.

"JJ, you'll need to hold a press conference as soon as possible to stop this media circus from getting any worse. The last thing we want is something the press speculates to set off the unsub." She nodded and took out her phone to make some calls.

"I'll meet Chief Foyer at the station and setup. We'll be landing in 30."

Everyone settled back into their seats, looking over case files, making calls, typing away on their phones—everyone but Reid. He tried to read through a 15th century novel his mother had sent him to calm down, but he was too distracted to keep up his normal reading pace.

_They'll notice if I'm slow today. I don't need them being anymore worried about me_. Reid thought as he secured his cane between the window and his seat. He cursed at his leg in silence. _Why am I always the one getting shot?_

He picked up his personal phone from the table and opened a text message sent last night at 3:49 AM:

_You forgot something here you might need._

_-C_

He hit the reply button and typed out a message before hitting send:

_Thanks for coming by today. You're a life saver._

_-S_

* * *

"Comparing the crime scenes showed us that this man is meticulous and controlled. Everything was set up just the way he needed it to be. This means he had plenty of time," Morgan explained to the detectives.

"Each location is only seven miles apart meaning that the unsub most likely lives within this comfort zone," Reid said while motioning to the map of the bulletin board.

"We believe this man has a connection to the local jail system whether that be a guard or technician we aren't sure. All of the criminals involved did time within 30 miles of this comfort zone—an easy commute," Hotchner explained.

"He's most likely white, around 29-35 in age. Under appreciated at work. His life is usually orderly and very much set in routine," Morgan said to the room.

"There was probably a major setback or tragedy in this guy's life in the past few weeks such as loss of job, loved one, relationship, or something happening in the jails," Rossi chimed in.

"Okay everybody. Go get your canvasing assignments and keep me posted. Let's catch this S.O.B.," Chief Foyer said to his officers.

The station bustled with phone calls to the tip hotline that JJ set up (none of which were relevant calls), officers coming and going, and victims' families looking for answers. Reid and Morgan sat on the table in front of the bulletin board shooting off ideas to help Garcia lessen the parameters of her searches.

"How could this guy have experience enough to have a solid and working MO without any priors?" Reid asked.

"Why do you think the guy wouldn't have priors? They could have met inside," Morgan replied.

"I don't think they met inside or we would have run across them in the initial checks of past bunkmates and so on. Plus, some of the men were from different jails. And with that in mind, the only people that could get near inmates in different jails would be part time guards and..." Reid stopped.

"What is it?" Morgan asked.

Reid took out his phone and dialed Garcia.

"Speak, mortal, and you may be heard," she answered.

"Hey, uh, Garcia? Have you looked into lawyers and representatives of the criminal victims?"

"No, but it'll just take a second." They could hear the tapping of her fingers on her keyboard. "Whoa."

"What is it, baby girl?" Morgan asked.

"They all had the same lawyer in charge of their hearings and appeals, but he didn't work with them during their initial trial because he was in a mental institute in Pennsylvania by his own accord."

"What's his name, Garcia?" Reid asked, impatient.

"Danny Summerland. I'm sending all of you the info on him and his address now," Garcia answered.

"Garcia, you are a goddess!" Reid exclaimed. Morgan gave him a look.

"Just another day at the office, gorgeous. Garcia out!"

* * *

Everyone on the plane was dosing off. They'd been in the air for about a half an hour. Rossi and Reid were they only ones left still semi awake. Rossi kept dosing off in the middle of spelling out a six letter word in his crossword puzzle. Reid waiting until Rossi had been out for a few minutes before limping to small restroom with his satchel in hand.

He sat down on the lid of the toilet and rummaged through his bag. Within a minute, a needle and vial were perched on the sink while Reid rolled up his sleeve passed his pointed elbow. Most of the track marks had faded, but four were still red and healing. He tied off his arm with surgical tubing with his right hand and teeth before carefully picked up the needle and vial. He punctured the top of the vial with the needle and sucked in a small amount of the clear substance.

_I only need enough to get me home, then I can pass out. _He told himself. _I only need a little. Just a little._

He set the cool metal against him skin and pressed down slowly. Reid hissed from the initial pinch, but quickly held his breath. The last thing he wanted was the team asking if he was okay. He pushed the liquid into his vein and threw his head back in a low moan.

_Just enough to get me by. Just enough to get me through tonight._


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer curled up in the cool, silky sheets surrounding him, jostling the person next to him in the bed.

"Why do you always have to steal all the covers?" The man asked. Spencer sighed.

"Why do you always have to be such a light sleeper?" He retorted. He turned to face the other man and snuggled into his chest.

"Don't get too comfortable, hun. Your alarm is going to go off soon."

"Five more minutes," Spencer said. He put an arm around the man's chest and intertwined their legs.

"I don't think it works like that cutie," the man replied while pressing a kiss to his partner's floppy hair. "You have to get showered and dressed. The last thing you want is Derek smelling sex on you."

"Ugh. Why are you always right?" Spencer mumbled into the man's chest.

"Ha! You're always the first to tell me I'm wrong."

* * *

"What did you mean the other day?" Emily asked Garcia. The analyst didn't even turn in her chair to face her.

"I don't know what you're referring to," she replied.

"Come on. You know I'm just curious. Reid never talks about his life, and I've never seen it walk through the door before."

"He talks to me about his life—opens up to me," Garcia explained as she spun around in her chair. "It takes him a lot to trust someone and let them in. You know that. You have to have profiled Reid before. He has abandonment and trust issues. I'm not going to betray him."

"I understand," Emily said and turned to leave.

"Em? You could always just ask Reid."

* * *

"We've has a rough few cases, so this week we're going to be playing catch up with paperwork and catching up with past victims and open case files. We'll start on a new case next week with fresh eyes. Enjoy it. This is as close as we get to time off," Hotchner explained to the team.

Garcia went around to each person's desk updating the software and checking for weaknesses. Morgan called many of the victims' had connected with. JJ did a few favors for reporters and old contacts. All of this was done before lunch.

"Hey, guys! Wanna go out to lunch together for once? We seem to have the time for once," Emily said to the team.

Everyone grabbed their coats and bags, heading to the elevator. As they chatted Reid took out his personal phone and checked the messages.

"Aren't you coming, Reid?" Morgan asked.

"Uh, no. I think I'm going to get a bit more done. I'm spending my lunch at the library reading about q5th century—" Morgan cut him off.

"Alright, man. Don't work too hard."

"I won't," Reid said as he watched everyone file into the elevator. The doors closed on Garcia fawning over Derek's jacket.

He looked back at his phone and clicked on one of the contacts. The phone rang twice before a familiar voice picked up.

"Hey, you never called me."

"Turns out I'm free for lunch. Wanna me up?" Reid asked.

"Sure! Where do you want to eat this time?"

* * *

The waitress came over and took away their plates.

"You guys need anything else? Maybe a refill on the coffee?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks," Spencer said.

"Your coffee addiction is worse than your others, love," The blond man commented.

"I don't think I need the 12-step program for this one," he chuckled back. The man across from him smiled and held Spencer's hand on the table.

"I'm glad you're in Washington for the week. We never get time like this," he said.

"I'm glad too," Spencer leaned over the table and kissed the man. There was a clatter at the counter across from their table.

"Fuckin' sick," a small man muttered under his breath. Reid sat back down and bit down on his lower lip. His partner squeezed his hand before sliding his own back under the table.

"I-I need to get back to work. I'll text you," Spencer said, standing up.

"Can I expect you again tonight?" The slender man asked.

"Probably not. I have some things to do. Bye," he said before putting a twenty on the table and leaving.

The waitress came back over to the table and filled Spencer's coffee cup.

"Anything for you?"

"No, I think I'm all set."

* * *

Spencer clutched his satchel and his cane once he got out the front door of the diner. He started walking over to the next block a bit slowly until he could figure his lame gate out again. He picked up the pace and kept his head down. He reached his right hand into his satchel, tracing around the vial.

_You don't need it. _ He told himself. _You'll be fine. And you couldn't get away with it. You have to go back to the office. You have to go do work and talk to people—the team. It's not worth it. You can hold out._

"Are you okay?" A woman asked that was having a smoke on the sidewalk.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"Hold out for what?" She asked. "You okay?"

"Did I say that out loud?" She nodded. "Oh, uh…sorry. I'm fine. Sorry."

Spencer shuffled past her and clutched his bag closer to his side.

* * *

"Hello, Mrs. Cofield? This is Dr. Spencer Reid with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI," Reid said into the phone connected to his desk.

"Dr. Reid, I remember you. You worked my Jessie's missing person's case, right?" The woman on the phone asked.

"That's right. I was just calling to check in and make sure everyone is alright. I know toll these kind of situations can take."

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Garcia, Emily, Morgan, JJ, and Rossi stepped out.

"I think you guys should always stay home. I never get to spend enough time with my babies," Garcia said. "Speaking of which…" she walked over to Reid's desk and tapped her foot.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll have the names of some local counselors sent over to you. Have a good day," Reid said and hung up the phone.

"Yes, Garcia?" Reid asked. She pulled up Morgan's chair to his desk and sat down.

"Why didn't you come to lunch with us? We missed you."

"I'm pretty sure you're the only one who missed me," Reid said, shuffling some of the files on her desk. "Could you send Mrs. Cofield some names of reliable counselors? Jessie has been having some trouble at school."

"Don't try and push that aside with work talk, doctor! _We _missed you at lunch," Garcia said. She leaned forward and put a hand on his left knee. "Is it about this?" She tapped.

"No, my leg will be fine with time," Reid sighed and leaned back in his chair. He looked around the room—Morgan and Emily were in the break room, Rossi, JJ, and Hotch were looking at the screen in the briefing room. "You know I don't really get along with anybody."

"You could fix that if you wanted to, cutie." Garcia mirrored Reid, leaning back in her chair. "What did you do for lunch, anyway?"

"Met a friend," Reid said. He leaned forward in his chair and grabbed his coffee. He took a sip and looked away from Garcia.

"Was it with who I think it was with?" She whispered, leaning forward too.

"Yeah, it was. Now can you please go send Mrs. Cofield that information?"

"Fine, but you owe me details, gorgeous!"

Reid turned back to his files as she put Morgan's chair back. She walked to her office with a little skip in her step.

"Too bad there isn't much to tell," Reid muttered to himself as he watched Garcia walk away.

* * *

"Can we have lunch and drinks together in the same day?" Penelope asked as she slipped her purple coat on.

"I don't see why not, baby girl," Derek said while he shut down his computer.

"I'm in," JJ said. "Will just called saying he's having a boys' night with some of the cadets he's training.

"Kevin's coming. I hope you guys don't mind," Penelope said.

"Well, if Kevin's going to be there I'll just have to come along. I don't think we know him well enough," said Emily. Reid opened his mouth to respond.

"Spencer, before you can say no, I'll remind you that you owe me," Penelope said while buttoning her coat. "It's your own fault for being such a technophobe."

"I'm not a technophobe, I just happen to prefer having a physical book in my hands."

"Whatever you say, honey. Grab your coat."

"I'll grab your bag, man. It must be annoying with the cane," Derek said.

"Thanks." Spencer stood with the support of his desk and grabbed his cane. "So, where are we going?"

"Oh, only to one of your favorites: High Oasis!" Penelope exclaimed.

"You have favorite clubs?" JJ asked.

"I have a personal life,"Spencer said while he grabbed his personal phone out of his bag, almost toppling over in the process. Derek caught him.

"Whoa. You could have just asked," Derek said, steading the smaller man.

Spencer didn't even respond. He leaned his cane against the nearest desk and began typing away on his phone.

"Garcia, I didn't owe you this much." He hit send on his phone.

"You'll thank me later, Casanova."

* * *

_To C:_

_Hey, Garcia is having everyone come to High Oasis tonight. Myself included. Just a warning._

_-S_


	3. Chapter 3

"I'll drop you guys out front and go find a place to park. Might as well leave your bags and coats in here. I doubt you'll need it in there," Rossi said as he pulled up in front of High Oasis.

"Thanks, Dave," Derek said as he, Spencer, and Emily hopped out of the car. Spencer left his cane, satchel, coat, scarf, and cardigan in the car.

As they walked towards the door, they overheard the bouncer say something.

"I'm sorry, folks. We're full." He motioned for the line to step back from the door.

"Oh great," Emily said. "How are we going to meet up with everyone now?"

"Don't worry about it," Spencer said and walked up to the bouncer. The man stepped aside and clapped a hand on his shoulder. He sank under the contact, but motioned for Emily and Derek to go in. He leaned in to tell the bouncer about the rest of the group and followed them in.

"I guess P wasn't kidding when she said you knew this place," Emily commented as they slipped through a dark curtain.

"Oh, yeah. I just know some people around here," he replied. They walked into the room and were bombarded with flashing lights and a deep, thudding bass.

"Good thing we pregamed," Derek said, motioning to the packed bar.

"Spencer! I heard you were coming," a pale, dark-haired woman said as she approached them. She hugged Spencer and looked Derek up and down. "It's it a bit early in the week for you to be making a visit?" She asked.

"Actually, my coworkers decided to come here as an opportunity to bond outside of work," he said over the thumping music. "This is Emily and Derek. The others will be in shortly," he motioned to them. The woman leaned forward and took their hands.

"It's good to meet you guys. I've heard a lot," she smiled at them. "My name is Carrie. I own the place. There's a booth waiting for you near the back left corner." She leaned up on her toes to whisper something in Spencer's ear. "Let me know if you need anything," she said to Emily and Derek. "Anything at all." She turned on her heel and walked off into a mass of people dancing.

"Wait, Spencer! You know the owner of this place? It's one of the most popular clubs in DC. How'd you swing that? You're only 21," Derek asked.

"Hey, I'll meet you guys at the booth, okay? There's somebody I need to go talk to," Spencer said and limped off into the crowd.

"Well, okay then. We'll be fine right here," Emily said, looking at Derek.

"Shots?" He asked.

"Gosh, yes!"

* * *

Penelope and Kevin were the last to join the group in the corner booth big enough to fit 20 people. JJ and Hotch were exchanging parenting stories with drinks in hand, Emily and Derek were dancing not too far away to the techno blaring over the speakers. Rossi was swigging what looked like scotch and getting up to greet them.

"Hello everyone!" Penelope said to the group.

"How does Reid have an in here?" JJ asked.

"Where is he?" Kevin asked. Derek and Emily came over. He put an arm around Penelope and the other around Kevin.

"When we got here Carrie told him something and he walked off. Haven't seen him since," he said.

"He said he'd meet us back here," Emily explained.

"Oh, there—" Hotch said. "Wait, is that Reid?" He pointed to two men walking from the bar over to the booth.

It was Spencer, alright. Though he'd been stripped of his tie and button-down. He was down to the dark V-neck he wore under his dress shirts every day. The man with him had shoulder-length blond hair pulled up in a ponytail, showing over the shaved bottom have of his head. He wore all-black, tight clothes with a beanie hanging out of his back pocket.

"Hey, guys," Spencer said to everyone when they reached the booth. He motioned to the man next to him, "this is Colby. He's Carrie's brother." Colby waved to the group.

"You know Penelope and Kevin. Here are Emily, Derek, JJ, Dave, and…" Spencer trailed off.

"Aaron's fine," Hotchner filled in the gap.

"It's nice to meet you all," Colby said to the group. His voice was light and airy, but somehow managed to stand out against the pounding music coming from all around them. "I'm sorry we couldn't be introduced the other day in Quantico, but I knew y'all were in a hurry."

"So, how do you to know each other?" Derek asked, but his voice was drowned out by a new song starting.

Colby turned to Spencer and whispered in his ear. He was bouncing excitedly and his eyes screamed with anticipation. Spencer massaged the back of his neck with his left hand for a moment before leaning onto the table, grabbing a shot of tequila, a downing it. He shook his head, looked at Colby and nodded. He gave the man his hand. Colby lead them out onto the dance floor.

"Spencer drinks?" Emily asked, shocked.

"Spencer dances?" JJ asked with the same expression on her face.

Penelope looked at the two men on the dance floor.

"There's a lot you guys don't know about him."

From the instant Spencer and Colby hit the dance floor their bodies felt connected. This setting was so familiar to them, and yet almost primal.

* * *

_The profiler thought back to meeting him in the store room when first he got there. Colby shoving him into the wall with a kiss before rolling up his sleeve. He had shook his head._

"_My team is here. They'll notice something," Spencer resisted. "I don't need to right now. I'll be okay until we leave in a few hours."_

"_Love, you won't be okay," Colby said. He stopped fidgeting with the taller man's sleeve and leaned into his face. "You need this. You need this pumping through your veins. You need to relax and feel what it has to offer."_

_He shoved an already ready needle into Spencer's arm and pushed the drug into him. Spencer's head titled back against the wall. He slowly let out his breath in a hiss before relaxing into Colby's arms._

"_That's it, baby. I got you."_

_Spencer had come back to reality to see Colby dabbing a sponge over his left arm._

"_Wha…what are you doing?" He asked._

"_I'm covering up your track marks so your coworkers don't have reason to ask questions. Trust me." Colby said as he took Spencer's tie and shirt off._

* * *

Spencer and Colby took hold of each other and gridded to the music. He could feel his groin pulling at his jeans. He grabbed the back of Colby's head and put their foreheads together, staring into the other man's eyes. Spencer's pupils were huge either lust-blown or from shooting up earlier.

_He was right. _Spencer thought to himself. _I did need this_.

Colby nipped at Spencer's bottom lip before kissing him with enough force to knock Spencer's injured leg off balance. He was fully supported in Colby's arms for a moment while they still gyrated against each other.

Spencer was oblivious to everything, but Colby and the music. He didn't notice his forearm rubbing against Colby's dark shirt—leaving streaks of cover-up behind. He didn't notice Penelope and Kevin dancing next to them. He didn't notice the team eyeing him with concern.

All he cared about was getting closer and closer to Colby. He thought he needed this.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun pierced through the thin curtains in Spencer's bedroom—a beam of light shining directly on his left eye. He scrunched his face to block out the offending sign of morning and flipped his head over on the pillow. He tried to readjust himself on the bed. He let out a low moan at his unresponsive, sore muscles. His head was pounding and his throat was dry. Spencer pushed the heel of his hand into his eye, trying to rub away the tiredness.

_What happened last night? _He asked himself.

Spencer pushed himself up to sit on his with his feet on the floor, facing the opposite side of the room to avoid the light making his headache worse. He put his head in his hands and breathed in slowly as he ran his fingers through his already ruffled hair. He looked down to see his bare chest and the boxer he had been wearing the previous day.

_I never sleep in my boxers_, he thought.

The clock read 9:30 AM. His alarm hadn't gone off.

_Fuck, I'm late_! Spencer thought, his eyes wide.

He reached over to the nightstand for his phone, but all that was there was his glasses, lamp, and a stack of books. He slipped on his glasses.

_What on earth happened last night?_

Spencer heard a knock on the door. Panicking, he reached into the nightstand, but his gun was also missing. The door slowly opened.

"It's just me, man," Derek said as he stepped through the door and closed it behind himself.

"Why are you here?" Spencer asked, covering his inner arms with his hands. "And what happened last night?"

"You don't remember? That must be a first," he laughed and sat down on the bed next to him.

"It's not funny, Derek," Spencer sighed. "I have no recollection of how I got here, where my phone and gun are, or how I ended up sleeping in my boxers."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Derek asked, placing a hand on Spencer's back, comforting him.

"Introducing you and Emily to Carrie. After that everything is either blank or fuzzy," Spencer said, eyebrows furrowed together.

"Then there's a lot to catch you up on, kid," Derek said while rubbing his back. "After you introduced us, you went off somewhere are we grabbed a booth. About 30 minutes later, you showed up with Colby and introduced us."

"Wait, I introduced you to him?" Spencer asked before taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, frames dangling from his lanky hand. Derek nodded.

"Somehow you lost half of your clothes in that half hour and were in a V-neck," he continued. "Short-sleeved."

Spencer's eyes widened. Instinctively, he covered his inner arms again with his hands before leaning forward.

"You took a shot of tequila and danced with Colby. I never knew you had those kind of dance moves, kid!" Spencer grimaced further. "The night went on like that for a while. Carrie came over and grabbed Colby to talk to him. You came back to the booth. You were pretty far gone. I was surprised you could even walk, to be honest."

Spencer moved to sit against his dark, carved, wooden headboard with his knees against his chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other shielding his eyes from the window.

"Hangover?" Derek asked. Spencer nodded, still grimacing. "I'm not surprised."

"What happened after that?" Spencer asked.

"We—the team and I—got chatting about you and the club scene. We'd known something was going on, but not to this extent," Derek turned to look Spencer in the eye, bringing one leg onto the bed before placing a hand on the younger man's knee.

"Penelope wanted us to go out together so we could see for ourselves what she had been so worried about," Derek continued.

Spencer buried his face between his knees.

"So, what do you guys know?" Spencer muffled out from his cave. Derek sighed and began running his hands through Spencer's hair, calming him.

"I hope we know everything. I can't imagine anyone being able to handle more than that. To be honest, I'm not sure how you made it this long," Derek said softly.

Spencer poked out from between his knees, eyes shimmering with tears ready to fall.

"Neither am I," he choked out.

The tears began streaming down his pale, sullen face. Before he could bury himself again, Derek wrapped his arms around the curled up man and held on as Spencer clutched to him and broke down.

* * *

"How do you think it's going in there?" JJ asked.

The whole team was cramped into Spencer's small, yet cozy apartment—taking up the living room and kitchen table. This was the first time any of the profilers had been to his apartment.

They never pressed going to each other's homes because they may make promises to not profile each other, but it's hard to turn off when you're standing in their home. The team wished they had come sooner. Maybe they could have noticed something.

"Either violently or with tears, and I'm not hearing any scuffling," David said from the kitchen table.

Penelope sniffed from the armchair next to the small-fire-hazard-of-a-fireplace. JJ reached over from the couch and rubbed her knee. Emily sent her a small smile and took JJ's other hand with her own and squeezed.

Hotchner was leaning against the pantry, staring at Spencer's phone, gun, and badge on the counter. David was spinning the youngest agent's cane between his fingers.

"How did we not see this sooner? I mean, we practically spend all our time with each other," Emily muttered to no one in particular.

"One thing Spencer is very good at is holding up a façade. It's how he grew up—trying to help his mother who wasn't living in reality. And that on top of his profiling skills, I'm surprised he let us know anything was wrong," Hotch explained to the group in a low tone.

"He must have wanted help," Penelope said through the silent tears streaking her face.

* * *

Spencer was clutching onto Derek's shirt, his tears soaking the thin, dark fabric.

"Let it all out, Pretty Boy," Derek consoled him, drawing circles into the man's bare back. "I'm not going anywhere."

"H-how am I going to face them?" Spencer sobbed.

"You don't need to do anything right now, kid. We aren't going anywhere. We're your family," Derek said. Spencer clutched him tighter, shaking.

"How about we find you some clothes, okay?" Derek asked, loosening his grip on the smaller man.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea," Spencer said.

He got up and pulled open three different dresser drawer, pulling out three different things.

"Should I dress for home or for work?" He asked, hesitant.

"Home. Hotch worked everything out so we won't be working for a few days."

"How'd he swing that?" Spencer asked, holding up a shirt.

"We never take any sick time."

"Could you turn around for a sec?" Spencer asked, holding his clothes to his chest.

"Oh, sure, man," Derek said, turning to face the window.

He heard the snap of elastic on skin and the rustling of fabric.

"I'm good," Spencer said before sitting down on the bed, putting his glasses back on, and wiggling his feet into TARDIS socks. He was wearing an oversized purple Henley and navy blue FBI sweatpants from the academy.

"Better?" Derek asked.

"It's the little things, right?" Spencer smirked. His face fell before he continued, "Let's get this Hell over with."

* * *

Everyone was avoiding eye contact. They listened to the rhythm of David bouncing Spencer's cane on the wooden floor boards, but stayed in silence. All their heads snapped up when they heard the bedroom doorknob turn.

Spencer came out first. One hand rubbing his temple, the other rubbing the inner crook of his left arm through his shirt. He walked straight passed anyone without acknowledging their existence and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and bent down to look in it.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked as he closed Spencer's bedroom door. Spencer pulled out a can of Sprite.

"In a recent study published in the journal _Food and Function_, they showed that Sprite—and sometimes club soda—changes the chemical acetyldehyde—which is formed when the body breaks down alcohol—into acetate faster, and therefore curing the hangover," Spencer rattled off as he opened the can and sipped.

The room was silent for a moment while he drank. Emily cleared her throat.

"Well if that's true, wanna get me one?" She asked.

Spencer smiled and took out another before walking over to the couch, handing it to her, and settling down on one of his tufted floor cushions—facing the room. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them.

"Thank you guys for giving a damn," he mumbled, just loud enough for everyone in the small room to hear.

Penelope, JJ, and Emily practically leaped from their seats to engulf Spencer in a group hug. He hugged them back with all he could muster.

"Of course we give a damn, Spence," JJ said when she settled back on the couch. "We're family and you're not getting rid of us." Spencer smiled.

"Spencer," everyone looked up at Hotch when he spoke. "We're going to have to start from the beginning."

He pulled up a chair next to David. Derek moved one of the floor cushions next to Spencer and sat down. The youngest took in a deep breath and exhaled.

"How did this start?" Hotch asked.

"Tobias Hankel," Spencer said.

"But that was over a year ago," Emily thought aloud. Spencer grimaced.

"W-when he had me tied up in that shed…" he paused. "When he turned back into Tobias, he told me he was going to make it all better—that he was going to make it all go away.

"At first, I thought he was going to kill me before his father or the angel could get to me, but then he tied off my arm. I begged him not to—I really did! I—," Spencer cut off with a sob.

"Derek placed a hand on his back, urging him to continue. Spencer sniffed and wiped his cheeks.

"We know you didn't want this," David said. Spencer nodded.

"Over the course of that night, he shot me up three times."

"Why didn't you put any of this in the report?" Hotch asked, leaning forward on his chair.

"Then you'd notice that the drugs were missing," Spencer explained, hugging himself again.

How did you know that we didn't see him do that over the video feed?" JJ asked.

"Before Tobias came back it was always turned off—he wouldn't put me through that. But one of you did know," Spencer said. "Gideon told me to regulate my ticks before someone noticed. A few months later he was gone. I guess I did a pretty good job until now."

"What exactly is it that you've been on for all this time? Emily asked.

"Dilaudid."

"How on earth have you lasted this long?" David gasped.

"I may not be a medical doctor, but I still know my body pretty well."

"After you ran out of Hankel's supply, how did you find more?" Hotch asked, needing all of the information.

"That's when I met Colby," Spencer looked at his socks. "He's my dealer. His sister, Carrie, runs an operation out of the back of her club," Spencer laughed to himself. "You'd think they'd come up with a less conspicuous name. High Oasis? Really?"

"If I'm crossing any line, let me know," Derek said from beside Spencer. "I don't know many dealers that sleep with their clientele."

Spencer ruffled his hair and kept looking down.

"Since we're together—if you can call it that—I don't have to pay," he explained in a small voice," but I have no control over when."

"What do you mean, sweetie?" Penelope asked, voice cracking.

"What Carrie lies to herself about. Colby's a worse junkie than I am, but he doesn't have the guts to go alone. So, each time he needs a fix, he needs me," Spencer thought to himself for a moment. "Needed me."

"So, you're ready to quit?" JJ asked.

"How could I not with my family so worried?" Spencer asked through a wide smile and tears.


	5. Chapter 5

Spencer stood next to his front door as everyone gave him long hugs before they left. Derek stood against one of the kitchen counters, promising to keep an eye on him.

The team had decided that Spencer's recovery was their responsibility. He knew he needed a support system to get through this, but he still tried to convince them otherwise—to no avail. They were going to always have one of the team members with him, if not more, to keep him company and help him through withdrawal. What the team hadn't told him was how they were going to deal with Colby and Carrie.

Hotch picked up Spencer's gun from the counter before stepping up to hug the younger man.

"For safety purposes, I'm going to keep this at the office. If anything comes up where you should need it, you'll always have one of us nearby, okay?" Spencer nodded.

"Yeah, I understand. Even I can't predict how I'm going to react to withdrawal, especially if I know there's a weapon close," he said, letting go of Hotch and hugging himself.

After everyone filed out, Spencer collapsed on the couch and threw an arm over his eyes. His hangover was slowly fading, but the morning's emotional rollercoaster and constant physically contact with everyone had left him complete drained, and it was only eleven.

"I know you just want all this to be over with, but I'm gunna need some more help from you, Reid," Derek said, moving into the living area.

"What now?" Spencer whined.

"I know you said that Colby handles all the drugs, but you must have a stash around here somewhere. Emily and JJ are heading to the office to check your desk," Derek explained. "Where should I be looking here?"

Spencer groaned in response. He rolled over to shove his face into the back of the couch.

"You telling me is a lot less painful than me tearing through your place, Pretty Boy."

"Don't lie. You'll tear it up anyway incase I'm withholding." Derek smiled.

"Yeah, but it'll look better to Hotch if you help."

Spencer sat up and leaned over to his chess table. He lifted the lid to where the pieces were stored and pulled out a thin bag of syringes.

"I know this can't be easy," Derek said, walking over and extending his hand. Spencer let out a deep sigh.

"You have no idea," Spencer replied in a small voice as he placed the bag in Derek's hand.

"This is hard, but it'll be so much better once it's over with," Derek said, rubbing Spencer's neck with his free hand.

The younger man leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

"You're not the one who has to go through withdrawal."

* * *

"I feel horrible doing this. Spencer is like a brother to me. I don't want to invade his privacy," JJ said as she and Emily stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the sixth floor.

"I do too, but it's for his own good. Plus, he's the one that wants to stop," Emily said.

"It's my fault that he's in this situation. It's my fault he got taken by Hankel in the first place," JJ said, leaning against the small handrail and looking at the ceiling.

"Hey," Emily said, stepping over to JJ and taking her hands. "You cannot start blaming yourself for this. Yes, Hankel introduced Reid to it, but it was Reid's choice to continue. What he's been…doing isn't that addictive that quickly. He wanted to keep going."

The elevator dinged and opened on the fourth floor. Two agents got in and hit the button for the seventh and eighth floors. Emily let go of JJ's hands. They got out a few seconds later and walked into the bullpen.

"I've never seen this place so empty," Emily said.

"Yeah, if anything Hotch is usually here doing paperwork and avoiding going home to an empty apartment," JJ responded.

"Hey there, profiler!" Emily joked. "I see you're picking up a few things."

"It's hard not to when I spend my whole life with you people," she jeered as they walked over to Spencer's desk.

Emily sat in the chair and starting flipping through the papers on his desk while JJ pulled up Emily's chair and opened a drawer. After searching around for ten minutes, all the files and drawers had been checked.

"I was sure he would have something here for a quick fix," Emily said, leaning back and looking at JJ.

"Could he have something hidden somewhere in the office?"

"An office filled with fellow FBI agents? I'm not sure he would risk that."

"Drugs don't really let people rely on reason," JJ retorted.

"I'll check his computer for any ideas. Why don't you go look around the men's room. That would be the safest place to keep it if he shot up in here," Emily said.

She booted up the computer and typed in Spencer's ID. The screen read: HELLO, SPENCER. PASSWORD, PLEASE. A text box appeared in the middle of the screen.

"That's definitely not FBI standard issue."

JJ opened the men's room door.

"Hello, anyone in here? Female entering!" No one responded, so she stepped inside. She checked under the sinks and under the reservoir lids on the toilets, but found nothing.

"Any luck?" She asked when she got back to the bullpen.

"Not yet. You?"

"Nope. Nothing. But he has to have something around here," JJ said, pulling the chair back up to Spencer's desk. "Whoa, I thought Reid was a technophobe."

"So did I, but the guy did graduate from MIT. He may not like computers, but he knows how to use them. I'm going to call Garcia," Emily said, picking up Spencer's desk phone.

* * *

Spencer watched from the couch as Derek gently tore through his bookshelf next to the front door.

"I'm telling you, there isn't anything over there."

"Quit being so smug. I know you and I'm going to prove it. You said there were three more stashes left in the place?" Derek asked.

"Yes, three. I'm just saying, but maybe you should hang up your profiler jacket and apply for demolition work," Spencer joked.

In the past hour, Spencer had gotten some food and his hangover had dissipated, leaving him in a much more jovial mood—considering the circumstances.

"Don't worry, Doc," Derek smirked at the small ball of a man perched on the couch. "I'll prove my skills."

"Care to explain why you are so focus on that bookcase?" Spencer asked, sipping at a mug of coffee.

"You care about books."

"Yeah, everyone knows I like books, Derek. It's not that hard to figure out. They're all over my apartment, if you haven't noticed," Spencer said, gesturing to the stack next the fireplace.

"Those books—even though they're on the floor—are well taken care of. These over here," he motioned to the bookcase, "are in much worse shape. The spines are cracked, covers folded over, pages dog-eared. You wouldn't do that to books you had an attachment to," Derek said as he stood to push the bookcase out from against the wall. "These don't please you too much, so I figure you might keep what doesn't please you about yourself over here too."

"Very observant. But who says the only thing I don't like about myself is my addiction?" Spencer retorted, pulling his knees closer to his chest.

Derek felt along the back of the bookcase. He felt the corner of something. He picked at it and heard it fall to the floor with a soft thump.

"Ha! I knew you had something over here," Derek exclaimed as we bent down and grabbed what fell.

"Like I said, why did you think it would be drugs and not something else?"

The dusty folder in Derek's hands was stuffed full. He walked over to the couch and sat down next to Spencer.

"So, what is it you don't like about yourself?" Spencer sipped his coffee in response. "Remember what I said, if I cross a line, let me know, okay?" Derek said, opening the folder.

He pulled out a newspaper clipping that read "LILA MEETS MYSTERY MAN AFTER ARREST."

"You regret not getting with Lila?" Derek asked. He remembered the movie star getting pretty cozy with Spencer in her pool, but they left the next day.

"Keep going," Spencer said quietly, watching Derek's hands handle the faded paper.

He pulled out another article. "LILA SPOTTED AT ABORTION CLINIC." Derek shoved the articles back into the folder and set on Spencer's foot since his lap was pressed against his stomach.

"Spencer, why didn't you tell us?" Derek asked, looking Spencer straight in the eyes.

"We were on a case in Georgia. I couldn't just take off and mentioning it would just make everyone distracted from finding the unsub. He'd killed three people. I wasn't going to be responsible for him killing another person," Spencer said, picking up the folder and placing it on the coffee table.

"We would have understood. That—I can't imagine what you were going through. Didn't she need you? Dude, you could have told us!"

"Derek, there's no need to get so heated over this now. It was over a year ago," Spencer sipped his coffee. "Plus, the withdrawal symptoms are probably going to start up in the next few hours. Everything should probably be out of here before that happens."

Spencer stood up and set his cup in the sink, rinsing it out. He began walking down the hallway.

"I don't think you're supposed to leave me alone, Derek," he called from his bedroom door.

* * *

"Who is calling from my baby genius' desk?"

"Hi, Garcia. It's JJ and I. We were going through Reid's desk to see if anything was here and his computer is password protected and not in the usual FBI format. Wanna come take a look for us?"

"Sure, I'll be there in 15 minutes."

"If you make it 10, I'll put the coffee on," JJ offered.

"Fine, but don't expect my usually flawless face and hair." The phone clicked.

"I'll go start the coffee," JJ said.

"I'm going to go check the men's room again. Two pairs of eyes are better than one."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please let me know what you think so far any where you think it's going. Thank you soooo much for reading! 3


	6. Chapter 6

"What have you got for me?" Penelope asked, stepping out of the elevator.

"Reid's computer. You understand when you see it," JJ said. She handed her a cup of coffee.

"Where's Em?"

"She went to check the men's' room in case he hid something in there," JJ explained.

"Why can't we just ask our little genius where everything is? It seems like it would be so much easier. Plus, I may be the best hacker any of you will lay eyes on, but that doesn't mean I want to," Penelope said.

They walked over to Spencer's desk and sat down. Penelope took a laptop out of her bag and connected it to the desktop before turning to the screen.

"Reid, Reid, Reid," she tisked. "What are you trying to hide?"

"I wish we could just ask Spencer and trust that he would tell us the whole truth, but he's been lying about this for over a year. He could hide something and relapse," JJ said, watching the analyst type.

"I know, but that doesn't make this any easier."

She typed away on her laptop and Spencer's desktop for a few minutes.

"Hey, Garcia," Emily said, walking into the room. "Find anything yet?"

"Not yet. Our boy does know a little about computers and is a genius, but it's nothing I can't take care of."

"Did you find anything?" JJ asked.

"Not in the men's room, but I checked the storage room," she said as she set a plastic bag down on her desk. "It was stowed behind one of the shelves."

"I can't believe he'd try to hide something here. That's so risky!" JJ turned the bag over in her hands.

Inside there was a small vial and a few syringes.

"I'm going to call Hotch about this," JJ said.

She stood up and headed to the round table while taking out her phone. Garcia typed away.

"Hey, Hotch," JJ said into the phone as she paced around the conference room.

"You guys find anything?" He asked.

"Prentiss found a bag in one of the storage rooms. And there's something up with Reid's computer, but we don't know what yet. Garcia is taking a look at it."

"I'll come over there soon to get the bag. Keep me updated on what Garcia finds. And try not to attract too much attention. This is supposed to be our day off."

"I understand. Have you heard from Morgan?" JJ stopped to glance out the window.

"I've received a few texts from him, but it's all very vague. I'm guessing he doesn't want Reid to see him doing it. I can't imagine things going too smoothly," Hotchner said. "Reid is such a private person and we tore that away from him. There's going to be quite a bit of backlash, but we'll deal with it in a few days when he's over the withdrawal symptoms."

"At least he chose this. We didn't force it on him," JJ responded, continuing to pace.

"I don't know how much of a difference that will make in a few hours. I have to go. I'll see you there soon."

The phone clicked. JJ shoved the phone back in her pocket and sighed.

"How's it coming?" she asked when she rejoined the other women around Spencer's desk.

* * *

"How are you holding up?" Derek asked.

He and Spencer were sitting on the couch in the living room watching _Doctor Who_ on the small TV. Spencer had his feet tucked under him, his hands clutching at the blanket Derek had fetched from his bedroom. Occasionally, Derek could see Spencer rubbing his arms under the fuzzy fabric, but kept his mouth shut.

"I'm okay," Spencer said, eyes glued to the screen.

"Don't lie to me, Pretty Boy. Nothing about this situation says 'okay.'"

"It always amazes me how quickly David Tennant can go from his genuine Scottish accent to a typical British one. Seeing Billie try to do the same makes the contrast even more noticeable," Spencer rambled off at the screen without glancing at Derek.

"You aren't going to be able to hide behind _Doctor Who _trivia for long, Spencer," Derek said, extending a hand to the man's knee. "I don't think avoiding the subject is going to make this any easier."

Spencer paused the DVD before turning to face Derek.

"I don't see how complaining about how much my arm, veins, and head hurt right now are going to relieve my symptoms. I'm sure I'll complain enough later about the insomnia, cold sweats, and anxiety—not to mention the sudden depression," Spencer said curtly. "I'm not feigning strength and resilience right now; I'm just trying to keep control for as long as I can before I start yelling and blaming you for all of this."

He turned back to the TV, played the episode, and snuggled into his blanket while the Doctor and Rose talk to the house servants.

"You know, you're wrong," Derek said. He shifted on the couch, putting his arm around Spencer and pulling him close. "You are very strong—I'd say you are the strongest person on the team. And if anyone can make it through this with dignity, it's you."

Spencer tried to wriggle out from under Derek's arm, but he just held him tighter. Eventually he accepted his fate and relaxed against the bigger man's side.

* * *

"Any progress on his computer?" Hotchner asked when he stepped into the bullpen.

"First off, I didn't even know 187 used his computer, let alone wrote up security measures for it—that's my job. Second, I'm glad he never applies his genius to code or the whole world would crumble. And thirdly, there is so much that even I didn't know about," Penelope said as she typed.

"Like what?"

"Well, on here he has basic stuff like the records from his mom's psych hospital—billings, emails from her doctors, and so on, most of his financials, and some Enterprise schematics. I'm glad he's making use of his doctorate in engineering. Speaking of which, did you know that just under a year ago, he became certified sex therapist? That's right! I said sex therapist!"

"Garcia, is there anything pertinent to the situation at hand?" Hotchner asked, not wanting Reid's entire private life overturned.

"There are a few emails between him and Carrie, but nothing else relating to High Oasis or Colby or the…situation, sir."

"What did the emails say?"

Penelope brought up three emails on the screen and scooted away so he could step closer to read them.

All the emails were vague and cordial. They didn't seem to connect together in anyway even though they were sent in response to each other.

"Knowing Reid, these could have some kind of code in them and we would never know. He's out code cracker," Emily said.

"We'll have to ask him about these once he's on a level head again," Hotch said, taking a step away from the computer. "Garcia, keep digging. There has to be a reason he went through so many measures to protect his computer."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Penelope said, saluting him and pulling her chair back up to the desk.

"Are you sure there will be something on there?" JJ asked. "Last I knew, Reid was a technophobe, not someone to send emails and have digital records. I just don't get why any of this is here. The guy barely uses his phone to text."

"I was thinking along those same lines, and that's why I think something is here. Only documents about his mother, education, and finances are on here. Nothing about cases or his apartment. Nothing about any personal part of his life. There's a reason for it," Hotch explained. "You two go home and get some rest. And Garcia, we don't need this right away so go home when you feel comfortable doing so. I can't have everyone working on two hours sleep."

"Why do I have a feeling you aren't going home to get some rest?" Emily asked.

"I have to go pick up some things from Morgan and see how things are going, but we will all be getting some rest tonight—everyone, but Reid."

Hotch picked up the plastic bag on Emil's desk and left.

* * *

"I didn't think _Doctor Who _was into the supernatural. It doesn't seem very intergalactic and spacey to me," Derek said as the credits rolled on the episode.

"What do you mean? That was all very spacey!" Spencer retorted, still against Derek's side.

"It was a werewolf."

"But who said the werewolf was from Earth?"

"You're ridiculous. It couldn't have just flown there in a saucer," Derek rolled his eyes.

"You're thinking to linearly. _Doctor Who _is known for being wibbly wobbly. Time isn't a straight line," Spencer tried to explain.

"I guess it's just not my kind of show."

Within the last ten minutes of the show, Spencer had started shaking—just a little at first, but Derek could see that Spencer was holding himself to try and stay still. He rubbed his back in circles.

"What can I do for you?" Derek asked, pulling away slightly.

"Help me get to my bed?" Spencer suggested, leaning back onto the couch and out of Derek's arm.

"Sure, man."

Derek stood up and helped Spencer off the couch. The smaller man may have seemed okay enough on the couch, but now his knees were barely able to keep him upright. He was visibly shaking and rubbing his arms. Spencer's eyes shifted from moderate excitement from discussing _Doctor Who _to pain and exhaustion. Derek held onto his arm while he slowly made his way down the small hallway. Derek opened the door for him and guided him to the bed. Spencer sat down slowly and curled up on his side, still facing Derek.

"Thanks for that. I don't know how far I would have made it on my own," Spencer said.

"It's no problem. I'm here to help and take care of you," Derek said, sitting down on the bed. "If you need anything at all or just need someone to yell at you have to let me know, okay?"

"Okay, but I don't know if I want to have permission to yell," Spencer replied, curling his hands under his pillow.

"You'll be thankful later. Now, I'm going to step out for a second and call Hotch, okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Alright, but Derek?"

"Yeah, Spencer?"

"Please don't tell him about Lila. I still need some of my private life," Spencer said quietly.

"I won't, but it'll probably come up at some point on a case or whatever else," Derek stood up. "I'll be back in a second.

Derek stepped out of the room, closing the door. He walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of water while taking out his phone and dialing Hotchner.

"How are things going?" Hotch asked as a greeting.

"Not too great. He's started shaking. I'd feel better if you'd come grab the pile of stuff he helped me find," Derek said, nudging the small pile of drug paraphernalia across the counter.

"I'll be over in about an hour. How is he emotionally?"

"Rough, but I wouldn't expect any less. His private life is being torn apart, I tore his apartment apart, and he's had physical contact with people all day," Derek sighed into the phone. "I just hope the kid will be able to get some sleep."


End file.
